


Stolen Moments

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Just Say Lass [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Casual Sex, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, From Sex to Love, Giveaway fic, Hook-Up, MGiT, Modern Girl in Thedas, POV Original Female Character, Shameless Smut, Smut and Feels, Wall Sex, that leads to more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: Each time, every time, just a smirk and the words "my lass," and she caves. But why bother resisting if she doesn't want to?A gift fic for a Tumblr Follower Giveaway.





	Stolen Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kawakaeguri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawakaeguri/gifts).
  * Inspired by [After Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14146962) by [LarasLandlockedBlues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues). 



> Written for my dear friend who won third place in my 500 Follower Fic Giveaway! She also requested [this beautiful work of art](https://laraslandlockedblues.tumblr.com/post/176028921658/you-should-be-warned-i-never-joke-when-it-comes), but her fic request of "Rylen smut" is the real prize. And so, set sort of loosely within [After Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14146962) canon (mild spoilers, I suppose), have some Abigail and Rylen smut! Thank you lovely and hope you enjoy!
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

“It’s fine, Flissa, I can get it all,” Abby assured the other woman. “Go get some rest, you worked all day.”

“Are you sure, Abby?” Flissa’s accented voice came from behind her.

With a smile over her shoulder Abby shrugged. “Yeah, go - it’s just a few more mugs.”

“All right,” Flissa sighed, wiping her hands on the rag she held. “See you tomorrow, then.”

Abby nodded as she watched the barmaid leave, and she looked around the suddenly silent tavern for a moment. It was nice, having a little bit of peace to herself. Haven bustled with so much activity all day, every day, and she relished these few moments alone at night when all she could hear was the vague sound of patrols making their way around the village.

Which is why the sound of heavy footsteps crunching through the snow before the door swung open surprised her.

Or rather didn’t, when she glanced up to see who it was.

Maybe this was the real reason she always insisted Flissa could leave before her, that she didn’t mind finishing the cleaning on her own. It wasn’t the first time he’d sought her out here, ever since that first time. And that second time, when he insisted that he had wanted more than one fling, that he didn’t want to give her up.

She still wasn’t sure what to trust, whether or not she believed his words and gentle assurances. All she knew was the way her heart raced when he looked at her like he was, the way he walked slowly forward until there was only the bar between them.

“Working late again, lass?” he asked, leaning against the wooden bar.

“As always,” she answered with a casual shrug. She buried her attention in the mug she was drying, avoiding his piercing, knowing aqua eyes, the way she knew they had to be undressing her. That they both had to be thinking about the last time he had visited her here, the way she’d begged him to bend her over the wooden bar after he had teased her.

“Were you busy tonight?”

“Not too busy,” she told him. “Maybe the men are sick of running laps for spending too much time here in the evenings.”

He chuckled, rubbing his fingers across his chin, and her eyes covertly followed the subtle movement. His smirk and that damn tattoo below his mouth, the one that followed the slope of his nose, the sight of his long fingers touching his skin - and she knew all too well what those fingers were capable of. All of it had her hot and bothered, already, and he’d barely said anything to her.

She tried to scold herself, but she was weak - whatever it was about him, she couldn’t get her thoughts under control.

If she was honest with herself, she didn’t really want to, even if she couldn’t figure out why she let herself give in so easily every time.

“Need some help finishing your work, lass?” he offered, moving around the bar to pick up a rag.

“N-no, unless I’m keeping you from something?” she teased, but her voice wavered and caught slightly on the words. He was closer now, the smell of sandalwood that clung to him invading her senses, making what little hesitation she felt disappear entirely.

“Not keeping me from _something_ , no,” he answered slowly. He set the rag down on the bar, stepping closer again until she could feel the heat radiating off of him. His fingers were warm when they brushed hers, carefully removing the mug and rag she was holding to set them aside. “Just keeping me from everything, from my lass.”

She wanted to protest the way he called her that, the way he always said it so firmly, as if they were the truest words he had ever spoken. Mostly she wanted to protest them because of the confusing way they made her feel, her heart racing until she wondered if he could hear it, her knees weakening at the lower tone of his voice.

The way _he_ made her feel.

His movements and caresses always started so slowly, so tenderly, as if he was worried he would scare her off like a frightened bird if he moved too fast. Strong fingers moved along her cheek as he turned her face to his, and they continued sliding until they were caught in her hair, holding her still as he lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was gentle, but left her breathless. Her lips parted against his of their own volition, responding to him naturally, as if made for him, designed to respond only to him. Since that first time, that first kiss, her body took on a life of its own in his arms, desperate for more and craving everything he could give her.

Everything he would give her.

Gradually his tender passion built, his actions losing their hesitation as she relaxed into him and met his searing kiss so eagerly. No longer acting as if he thought she would flee if he moved too quickly, he backed her into the wall so he could deepen the kiss. Her hands were fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, one sliding up to snake into his hair, fingers twisting and tugging the wavy strands.

He released his hold on her hair to begin to undo the laces of the breeches she wore, pulling the black linen blouse from the waist so that he could slide it over her head. His movements were quick, practiced, familiar with the articles of clothing she always wore and making fast work of them until she was bare. Wandering, roughened hands moved across her skin, leaving trails of pink where he gripped her tightly, caressed her too hard as if he was starved for the feel of her and couldn’t get enough now that she was here. He didn’t break the kiss, devouring her and stealing the gasps and cries that met the strokes of his fingers between her thighs.

“Ry - please,” she breathed into his mouth. His fingers tightened where they held her breast when he heard the name, the soft tone of her voice that he only heard in these moments, when he had her in his arms.

A whimper escaped her lips unbidden when he removed his hands from her, her skin lamenting the loss of his touch even as anticipation flooded her at the sight of him fumbling with the laces of his breeches. He didn’t bother to remove the cream-colored linen shirt he wore, didn’t even bother to do more than slide his breeches down enough so that he was free. She took his hard cock in her hand and watched as he groaned, his eyes closing and his brows knitting together as he breathed deeply, clearly taking a moment to enjoy the way she was slowly stroking him.

But he placed his hands on her thighs and lifted her, pushing her back against the wall as he angled her for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist when he slid himself into her, her head snapping back against the wall as she moaned. Full, and oh so right - every time, it was like feeling whole, filled by him and perfectly content to be.

“Lass, my lass,” he muttered against her throat when he began to move. His hands braced her, cupping her rear as he thrust up into her. “Abigail, Maker - you’re -” but instead of finishing with words he latched onto her neck with the wet heat of his mouth, sucking and kissing where he had his face pressed to her.

She tightened her legs around him, her arms clinging to his neck as if she was holding on for dear life. Her eyelids fluttered shut with each thrust, her moans and soft cries accompanying the sounds of his panting breaths, the sound of him pushing into her again and again.

And still her body responded as if made for him, each movement of his cock inside her almost making her see stars as she chanted, “Ry - please - _more_ \- _please_ -” under her breath. He doubled his efforts, managed to slip a hand between them to quickly stroke her pearl, not faltering in his desperate pace as he tried to push her over the edge.

It took hardly any coaxing before she was arching off the wall, eyes clenched tight as she sobbed, mingling “Ry” and “fuck - _yes_ ” together in the cloudy haze of euphoria that she lost herself in. His loud moans of her name soon followed, and he thrust hard and deep, her back bruising from the way he slammed her into the wall as he found his release within her.

Her nails were digging into his skin where she held his shoulders, and she wondered if he would still have little half-moon marks tomorrow. Just to be sure he did she dug deeper, wanting to leave traces of the stolen moments of passion he took from her here. After all, he always left a mark on her throat that she found herself trying to hide the next day from Flissa - or worse, Evelyn. It wasn’t because she was ashamed, just because it felt private, like perhaps it meant too much to her, a secret only for the two of them.

He called her his lass, his everything - and she was beginning to accept that she liked it when he did, even if it terrified her.


End file.
